I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

He simply floats quietly on the water, waiting for the next wave to carry him far away, or for him to create waves on his own.

No matter what, even if this choice ultimately destroys him, so what?

After all, he has always been making the choices he believes are the most correct at the time.

Gerald then looked directly at the Banshee Queen, with whom he might have a long and complicated past, and smiled at her: "Thank you for taking care of me these past days. I am very grateful."

"……Wait a moment."

Lamarle's voice rose slightly, breaking her usual composed elegance and adding a fleeting hint of urgency.

One second she was standing by the window gazing at the morning scene, and the next second she appeared beside Gerald like a gust of wind.

She moved closer, wanting to stop him, but stopped just before touching him, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes: "Now? I mean... can't we wait a little longer?"

"What do you mean?" Pegasus looked puzzled, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?"

What are you waiting for?

That is of course--

Lamaren suddenly realized that even though she possessed the most beautiful singing voice in the entire Slug Kingdom, and even though she had used dirges to send off the deceased countless times, she couldn't even utter the simplest words of farewell when faced with the scene before her.

Too many things—the continuation of the banshee, the original agreement, even the plans she had made in her heart—were now like a thorn stuck in her throat, as if everything before had been just a beautiful bubble.

"Nothing."

She ultimately swallowed those emotions.

“The gates of the valley will always be open for you, Gerald.” Ramalen calmly adjusted her expression and gently hugged her friend. “I will pray for you and sing for you, just as I promised. I wish you a safe journey.”

It was a very touching farewell. If it weren't for the deep sense of loss hidden in her eyes that instantly shattered all pretense, this demeanor might have truly fooled everyone.

But Gerald could only try his best to reduce the area covered by the disaster.

It's hard to imagine how Sarkaz developed; simply being close to him was enough to evoke feelings beyond reason in him.

So he struggled to get out of the other's embrace, and after catching his breath, he said, "Well, although I don't intend to leave the valley, should I take what I just said as a sign of farewell?"

Upon hearing Gerald's words, Ramallen withdrew her movements as swiftly as lightning, her gentle eyes widening slightly, like clear rubies.

"But what you just said—"

The questioning stopped halfway through.

Gerald didn't seem to have mentioned leaving at all; it was all her own misunderstanding.

“You’re deliberately making me misunderstand you,” Ramalyn said softly, her tone unusually different from usual. “You’re really going too far, Gerald. I wish your muffins for breakfast today were spicy.”

"I thought you would realize your own problems first, such as not trusting me enough. Do you think I'm so easy to break a promise in your eyes?"

"...Undeniably, the issue just now still revolved around your question."

Lamarle didn't want the other person to realize that for a moment, this worry swept over her like a storm, almost completely engulfing her heart.

This was not a rational act, as the Queen of the Banshees should always be rational—but the person before him had previously demonstrated that sometimes even the Queen of the Banshees does not have to be perfect.

This mistake should be attributed to him no matter what.

“Alright.” Gerald strolled to the side and picked up the suit that Lamaren had prepared for him. “I bet you’re not happy right now. Maybe you could let me experience some other spells? My comical appearance should cheer you up a bit.”

Lamarle narrowed her eyes slightly, a sharp glint in her eyes, and slowly approached Gerald: "I may not be very experienced in communicating with the outside world, but that doesn't mean that crude provocations will work easily."

"So what are your conditions, Your Majesty, the Banshee Queen?"

Pegasus draped his formal attire over his arm, stood with his feet together, and performed a standard Casimir salute to Lamaren, saying, "I will try my best to meet your needs."

……

A daze struck Ramalien's brain.

She thought of the wind blowing through the woods.

As a child, she couldn't understand the mystery, but she loved the falling leaves that swirled around her.

But eventually she discovered that the leaves were not what she liked; she preferred the source that made the leaves swirl, the elusive concepts and phenomena, the wind that made everything flow.

The concept can be expressed with incantations, although she doesn't do it very well.

The young succubus queen could only use incantations to keep the wind around her for a moment, but as the strokes of the words gradually disappeared, she had to add another stroke to maintain that invisible and colorless existence.

Even so, with just one chance to fall asleep, the one she desperately wanted to hold onto would leave her side.

Because the wind is always free and unrestrained, it will eventually blow from the valley to Kazdel, to Columbia, to every corner of the world, until it gets tired and weary, and then it will silently disappear into nothingness.

This was not what she wanted.

Therefore, she only had one condition.

"Just stay a little longer."

Lamaren looked at the other person and said softly, "Even a moment before the limit is reached is enough for me."

She wanted to catch the invisible wind.

Chapter 49 Why don't you guess where the banshee's child came from?

"Time waits for no one, Lamaren."

Gerald responded directly to the other's meaningful words, still making his promise: "Then let's enjoy it to the fullest, until the very last second before the limit is reached."

A gentle breeze blew in from the window, caressing the room and causing the delicate blankets on the bed to quietly roll up. The edges fluttered in the air, the soft fabric undulating lightly like dancing wings, swirling around Ramalien's side as Pegasus's thoughts took hold.

The fabric swirled around her, transforming into a flowing barrier that gently obscured the succubus queen's vision.

In a fleeting instant, light and shadow were sliced ​​apart as the fabric danced, and with the rhythm of the wind, the world in Ramalen's eyes seemed to be lightly covered by the texture of feathers. She raised her hand, trying to push aside that soft barrier, but paused slightly at the last moment before pushing it away.

The next second, the fabric was suddenly pulled away from her sight, the surrounding wind dissipated in the air, and the original noise returned to silence.

Ramallen's vision finally cleared, and her gaze fell on Gerald, who was standing in front of her.

He had already changed into his black suit.

The black trench coat hem reached to the ankles, the deep fabric swaying slightly in the breeze, outlining unrestrained yet sharp lines. Looking up, the collar stood high, and the gold embellishments on the shoulders were understated yet exquisite, subtly echoing the silver thread on the cuffs, adding a touch of flowing radiance to the outfit.

Gerald's long, silvery-white hair stood out against the black background, like moonlight falling on the night sky.

"I'm thinking."

But his composure crumbled the moment he spoke.

"If I add two ear feathers to my head, would I be considered a banshee in the eyes of outsiders?" Gerald touched the Infinity Knot on his chest, feeling slightly troubled.

“I won’t lie, you do have a very captivating face, Gerald.” Ramalen’s gaze lingered on him for a long time after just one glance. “Even though the battlefield has made you even more unstoppable, if we’re just talking about your face, yes.”

Okay, this evaluation doesn't seem very acceptable, even though it does sound like a compliment.

He subconsciously touched his face, which had become noticeably more moisturized these past few days, and was somewhat inclined to blame the Banshee Queen for the problem.

"Fine, that's fine too." Gerald finally decided to give up on dwelling on the issue. He gently moved his fingers, putting the items in the room back in their original places. "Speaking of which, if I really were a banshee, and I defeated you, could I pull you down from your position as the ruler of the royal court?"

"This is a somewhat complicated issue, but I think you'll understand once you see this."

Lamaren walked to the exit of the room and used a bone pen to carve unfamiliar incantations on the door. The place where there was no door before quietly changed, just like the secret wall in Diagon Alley. The stone bricks opened a path for them to pass through as they moved and changed.

The valley was wide enough, and the place where the Banshee Queen lived still maintained relatively traditional ideas.

Looking out from the room, the space suddenly expands, with a towering dome overhead, shaped like a whirlpool in a river valley.

Looking outwards, the magnificent scenery of the valley unfolds before your eyes. Unlike the Tower of Words, the Slug Queen's courtyard is nestled within the stone structures on either side of the valley. Under the power of incantations, it has been sculpted into a wondrous spectacle resembling a hanging garden. On ordinary days, this courtyard is hidden from view, and only those who are invited can witness its true beauty and offer their reverence.

Huge curtains hung on the walls surrounding the courtyard, their silk fibers swaying gently in the wind. Thorns covered the stone pillars that supported the palace. The outer walls were not completely enclosed; in some areas, huge arched windows replaced the walls, allowing the wind to pass through and bringing the breath of nature.

In the center was a huge bed with a frame made of ivory-colored metal, carved with intricate patterns, and its edges inlaid with tiny blue gemstones, like ripples on a river.

Gerald also walked to the door of the room, looked at the scene outside, and nodded in agreement: "I would choose the same thing."

"What do you mean?" Lamaren looked at Pegasus beside her with some confusion, but his expression did not change in the slightest because of the scene.

“I have a secret room at home too, though it certainly can’t compare to your courtyard.”

Gerald pointed to the room behind him, "Considering that the courtyard will be the primary target during an invasion, I will only fill this open space with traps and Originium-enhanced artifacts. Its strategic value far outweighs its practical value."

"And even if it comes to a fight to the death, this place can serve as a perfect fortress to cover the rear for others. There should also be a mechanism at the window from earlier; I sensed the aura of a curse, more difficult to deal with than any I've seen before... Is its function teleportation?"

Lamaren gave a gentle smile; talking to intelligent people was always particularly easy and pleasant: "That is precisely why the authority of the ruler of the royal court is usually passed on by the previous generation rather than through other means."

“I understand.” Gerald squinted slightly as he looked at the thorns on the surrounding stone pillars. “This is indeed troublesome.”

If every challenger to the throne faces the Banshee Queen at her peak, empowered by the arena, then the outcome needs no further explanation.

Just like in the final battle to defend Kazdel, when Theresa and the lich turned the city into a large sorcery altar, under the special influence of the location, simple assessments of combat strength are no longer effective.

Even a powerful general like General Felin would not choose to set foot in the Banshee's courtyard; she would only order the battleships to aim their turrets at the outer stone walls and bombard them.

The differences between offense and defense, and the alliances and counter-alliances, sometimes make it difficult to judge who is superior or inferior based on the results of battle alone. Just like the Duke of Wellington, who bombarded and destroyed Lingons, known as the "Death Knell of the Empire," the role of strategy in debate is often overlooked and forgotten.

Most people who die in the courtyard are brainless; those with a clear mind will only choose a place where they are good at it.

This means that unless the race is wiped out, the banshee's courtyard will always remain just a legend passed down by word of mouth—except for the one who once became a demon king in the form of a banshee.

Sarkaz's corpses piled up in her yard.

He slowly walked out of the room, with Lamaren following closely behind. As they moved, the stone wall behind them silently reformed, and the entire space was enveloped by some kind of incantation, disappearing into it.

“However, considering some special circumstances,” Ramalen suddenly said, “there are precedents in history for others other than banshees to gain a place in the royal court… Although bloodline will still be used as a standard, the royal court has no shortage of methods.”

"For example?" Gerald paused, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

He followed the Banshee Queen's gaze to the large bed in the center, and when he turned his head, he met her gaze again.

The doubts in my heart were instantly resolved.

So he stepped forward and drew his sword from its sheath.

“…Gerald?” Ramallen’s face showed a puzzled expression.

"You seduced me first, Ramalen." Gerald gripped the familiar sword in his hand, closed his eyes, and quietly felt the presence emanating from the other side of the bed.

—A completely unfamiliar incantation, yet it is the most prominent presence in the entire space, a form of expression brimming with vitality.

His previous dream experience told him that abnormal vitality was worse than death, like carrion eaters that could be born from death, or blood demons that devoured the flesh and blood of their enemies. Their fighting style on the battlefield was something Gerald had never seen before, and it was very interesting.

Without a doubt, this is the biggest challenge in the entire courtyard.

Considering Lamaren's previous words and the fact that the courtyard was used for defense, the answer is self-evident.

"Aren't you curious how I broke your spell?" He turned his head, his eyes reopening. "This is a good opportunity. Breaking it means filling in the gaps, and I also hope to witness the Banshee Queen at her full power... Ramalen? Why are you making that face?"

The Queen of the Banshees had no idea what kind of expression she was wearing.

She didn't care.

"can."

Lamaren said softly.

"Consider it practice for later preparations...don't you agree?"

Chapter 50 Next time you play cards, remember to clear the opponent's side first.

"Would you like to understand the form of the incantation first? I understand."

Just as Ramalyn showed complete trust in Gerald, although he maintained his usual sharpness and intuition and quickly sensed a certain blunt aggression hidden in her words, he still acted according to her instructions without hesitation.

He won't lose money no matter what.

Since his last personal battle with Lamaren, he spent eight out of his last ten days in prison contemplating how to counter the banshee's curse.

From his own perspective, the best solution to the curse, as he initially thought, is to avoid it as much as possible.

The second is to sever it.

Despite only a brief glimpse, he still found a way to break the spell from the sea of ​​consciousness. To be precise, it was a forced deconstruction derived from Originium Arts.

What's interesting is that this technique was originally an idea that his childhood friend mentioned during a casual chat, and he never thought he would actually be able to use it in that situation.

As mentioned earlier, incantations rely on concepts; incantations for silence seal off one's vocal organs, and incantations for blindness deprive one of sight. This is essentially a modification at the level of the soul.

The problem is that Sarkaz witchcraft is ultimately just a way of constructing the material world, and the term "witchcraft" is more of a biased label used to distinguish the two. A deeper examination reveals that their witchcraft is directly related to bloodline, which is one of the reasons why the royal court is so insistent on the purity of bloodlines.

Therefore, one can simply try to empty one's consciousness completely for a moment, return to that primordial spiritual sea, and let the invisible thread connecting one to the world be released naturally—just as he had done when he encountered the confusing spell in the forest.

What remains is only a pure clash against a pure clash of forces. Two forces originating from Originium are forcibly pushed towards each other, colliding violently until they completely disintegrate into nothingness.